Last Blood
by PrincessCocoa
Summary: So he's either got to hoof it alone against a countless number of zombies or accept the help of a group of vampires. Not exactly the best choice in the world. Well. At least with Douglas he won't be alone anymore.
1. Chapter 1

**This story came about after I went to Comic Con and heard about a webcomic called Last Blood on Keenspot. I haven't read it (yet) but the idea was so amazing to me that I wanted to write a fic with the same premise. I'm not sure if I'd call this a crossover but if you've read the comic and recognize the idea, that's why. Obviously, you don't have to have read that comic to understand this world. ****Also until I can think of a more interesting title, Last Blood is what this will be called as well.**

**This is a fic with zombies and vampires which means there will be ~blood~ and ~gore~ so please watch out for that, these are the only warnings you'll get. Also there will be smut, but it's a long ways down the road. **

**I don't currently know where I'm going to go with this fic, but so far I have 15,000 words written so, needless to say, I'm going to continue to just have fun with it. Updates will be irregular but if you're desperate for more or something, feel free to nudge me at my tumblr :). **

**I'll stop talking now. Hope you enjoy~**

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He's running. Feet pounding the decrepit asphalt with one shoe gone, the other falling apart as it is. His feet are bleeding, his lungs are burning, but then again, that's a usual circumstance.

He's alone. So, so alone and likely to stay that way for a long time - assuming, of course, that he doesn't die now.

He hears a growl behind him followed by more. Growls, mumbles, howls, hisses; it's really all he hears anymore. All loud noises in the night while he's trying to get some much needed sleep, though it never comes - not so long as those noises are around, haunting him, torturing him.

He remembers as he runs (as he always does at such desperate times) remembers the news. Remembers other people - other humans. Remembers the reassurances, the promises that this epidemic, this_ plague_ wouldn't last long; it would be contained, just stay inside and lock yourselves away. Sure.

There was a time when the government provided door to door rations and when there was no panic, no blinding fear. He doesn't remember that part though, because right now he's terrified and he can't remember ever having not been.

He wants to cry as he jumps another fence, heading for the safety of the tree line. He wants to stop and bawl and just let death come because nothing can be worse than this hideous sickening constant terror, this non-stop chase, these traitorous thoughts of maybe today is it, maybe the end is finally here I at least hope it doesn't hurt too much I hope they kill me as quickly as possible.

But his tears are all used up.

They've been dried out, run down from crying over a life lost, family members killed and changed, a world destroyed. Whether he wants to or not, he couldn't produce tears now of he tried.

He dodges a tree and jumps over a hole in the ground, still running at full speed. The noises of a chase have quieted now but he's still got a while to go before he reaches a safe distance. It's a well-known fact that zombies - as that's what everyone seems to have wanted to call those creatures - don't like forested areas.

The woods are good, perfect really; it's hard for the clumsy zombies to keep up in the brush and very occasionally, an animal will keep them distracted. He remembers there being rumors about cities of humans locate throughout the forests of Europe. He's stopped believing in those - after a year of travel he still hasn't come across a single one. Besides, he hasn't heard those myths in quite awhile. Though perhaps that has to do with the fact that he hasn't actually talked to another human in...well...in a very long time.

He thinks of his brother, the last of his party to survive. He was killed, of course, while trying to protect him, no less. He closes his eyes for a moment at the memory and instantly regrets it.

While it's a well-known fact that packs of zombies don't like forests, that same rule doesn't apply to groups of two or even three. He hits one straight on, close-lining himself and falling heavily to the ground. A clawed hand swings through the air, coupled with a harsh moan, and he rolls just in time to avoid taking the brunt of the attack, though his back still gets sliced the tiniest bit.

He lifts himself to his feet and staggers - his ankle was hurt in the fall. He curses; a twisted ankle will get him killed in the matter of a few hours, that is if he's not killed here.

He limps back, trying to ignore the pain but afraid at the same time of causing more damage. He continues to move backwards, watching the three creatures in front of him move forward at the same time. It's a slow dance they're participating in: the first strike is always the most tenuous.

He gropes around behind him, trying hard to avoid being cornered in by trees while also trying to find a good branch to take a swing with. He immediately regrets using his last weapons on the monster that killed his brother but vicious, revenge-fueled anger, he's found, simply cannot be controlled.

He starts, eyes widening when his hand hits cold flesh instead of wood. Spinning quickly, he avoids the biting attack of the zombie behind him. The quick movement, however, incites the other three to action and he curses again, stumbling out of the way of two other attacks.

He cries out when a third attack comes dangerously close to his neck, clipping his face instead. Blood splashes hot against his cheek, dripping viscously down his throat adding another stain to his ruined shirt.

He flips around, preparing to print away when a hand grabs his ankle, dragging him to the ground. He lands and the breath leaves him. He struggles, kicking the zombie in the face as hard as he can until the thing lets go. It's skin stretches and tears, it's cheek cracks and it's jaw unhinges but still it won't relent. In the background, the other three are gathering their bearings, turning to encircle him and for a moment, he thanks whatever deity might exist that zombies are easy to daze..

The right one pounces first. He rolls, dragging the other mutilated zombie with him. Grabbing a thick stick from the ground, he flips around, hitting another square in the jaw. It howls as part of its face is lost but stands back up after the blow. He discards the broken stick.

Finally, he gets in a position to step on the arm still clinging to his ankle. He stomps hard, breaking bone as he pries the hand from his ankle while he tries to stand.

The other two attack and he just barely dodges a bite to his right shoulder and another to his left hip. He trips, falling to his knees. He's tackled from the side but manages to roll out from under the flailing zombie and blinks as he struggles to pull himself up again. Another zombie lands on his back and he shouts as he wrenches free of its grip. He rolls away, hitting a tree.

Eyes wide, he glances at the tree. It's large and already the zombies are encircling once more. He's trapped. His breath stutters out of him as he realizes that this is the end: there's no possible way to escape without a bite.

The zombie on his right jumps first, knocking him flat on the ground. He waits for the first of many bites but it doesn't come. Instead, the weight is removed from his back. He blinks his eyes open and pushes up, holding his weight at his elbows as he watches what's happening.

A man is fighting the creatures. He takes the one currently struggling in his hands and throws it hard against the other three. They fall to the ground and the man pounces, landing on one and taking no time in completely tearing its head off. He turns quickly, plunging his hand into the chest cavity of another and wrenching its spine apart. Before that one can even land on the ground, the man picks up another, throwing it against a far tree. The last he picks up, tearing the howling creature near in half.

Blood, blackened by stagnation, rains down as the man turns, eyeing him still on the ground. He realizes, vaguely, that he's shaking; he's scared, even more so by this silent protector than by the zombies themselves.

The man is impeccably dressed, almost as if clothing stores hadn't shut down just after the first reported attack. He wears a long - possibly leather - trench coat, buttoned only in the center. The bottom flutters around him and his strapped black pants while the top is unbuttoned to reveal a black dress shirt and a deep maroon tie.

It should look hideous. His high-calf combat boots shouldn't look so good with the dress shirt and his neatly combed brown-grey hair but it does. He's tall, intimidating, and, most of all, looking at him with an analytical yet predatory gleam in his eye.

"What's your name," he asks, his deep voice booming in the small area.

He shakes, opens his mouth to answer, closes it again. He has to think; he hasn't had a name in so long. "M-M-Martin." His voice is cracked from disuse, his stutter as prevalent as ever.

The man raises an eyebrow. "British, then. You're far from home."

"No home left," he replies, eyes unwavering as he meets the mans unblinking stare.

The man tilts his head and smirks. "I suppose that's true for you."

Martin's eyebrows furrow. Who in the world is this man? Did he somehow miss the fact that the apocalypse had occurred?

"I, um, thanks. For saving me. That was, it was...good. So. Thanks."

The man's smirk extends into a close-lipped smile. "You shouldn't thank me just yet," he says, sending a shiver down Martin's spine. "I assure you the motivations weren't entirely altruistic." He tilts his head as Martin leans against the tree to stand. "You're hurt."

"Er...yeah. It's fine, though."

The man hums and walks closer. "You won't survive long with that ankle."

Martin raises his eyebrows and nods. "Nope, probably not. Not much to do about that though. Just have to keep moving. Thanks again." Pointedly turning away from the man, he tries to limp forward. He hates being alone but his gut is telling him that being with this man is even more dangerous than being on his own. And if there's one thing he's learned during these last months, it's that he shouldn't ignore his gut instinct.

He doesn't get far, however, as the mans hand reaches forward, gripping him painfully tight at his shoulder.

"I may be wrong," he starts. "But going off alone in such a condition isn't a good idea."

Martin turns, and it's only then that he sees them.

He'd first heard of them only after he and his family had left the small island housing the United Kingdom. They'd been in hiding for thousands of years until humanity's apocalypse. From there they'd been desperate, nearly as desperate for humans as humans were for escape from the wretched world theirs had become.

He'd only ever seen a vampire once before; since then, he'd vowed never to go near one again. Yet here one is, looking at him expectantly with his fangs in full view after just having saved his life. "Oh," he says.

The man smiles once more, seeming to catalogue Martin's reaction. Martin's eyes are fearful but also resigned - he knows what could happen to him in the presence of a vampire.

"'Oh' indeed," he drawls. "No need to worry, you're a precious resource, I'm not going to kill you or suck you dry or do any of the other likely terrible things running through your head. Rather, I have a proposition for you."

Martin nods, unable to do much else while the man, the _vampire_, has him in his grasp.

"I happen to know where a tiny little human village is," he starts, grinning at Martin's traitorously hopeful expression.

"It's a few days' walk: northeast from here. My own coven protects it from those hideous zombie packs. In exchange, we feed on a few of you once weekly. We don't kill a single one of you - you're nearly extinct after all - but with the current amount of people and my coven of fifteen vampires, a single person is fed on once every two months or so. What do you think?"

Martin's eyes go wide. He very nearly forgets that he should be wary of the vampire. "There are that many humans still alive?"

He smiles. "That and more. We don't feed on children but there are plenty there. Similarly, we're constantly finding more like you just wandering. Enough to viably rebuild a civilization, at least."

Martin lets out a large breath of air that he didn't know he'd been holding. It wasn't great, being fed on, but it was the lesser of two evils. He would survive, he wouldn't be alone, he'd be protected. He looks back at the vampire. "That sounds fine," he says, still slightly suspicious but also eager.

"Marvelous," he responds. He extends a perfectly manicured hand. "My name is Douglas. Welcome to the village, Martin."


	2. Chapter 2

They've been walking for three hours through endless forest in silence. While Douglas seemed easy to talk to initially, Martin finds himself intimidated by the man now. As the minutes passed into hours, he seems to have turned more brooding, a darker facsimile of his original self. Of course, that might just be Martin's own mind.

He always had a habit of working himself up - overreacting to every little thing - before the destruction of humanity. Yet, when the apocalypse happened, he found that it's hard to overreact to anything. So he learned to control himself, learned to calm himself down and face his problems head on without a big production. Now, though, it seems his old habits are coming back.

As he limps along next to Douglas, he worries that he may have put too much trust in the vampire in exchange for having saved his life. He worries that perhaps the village isn't as benevolent as it sounds. He worries that he's a lamb being led to slaughter. After his last encounter with a vampire, it's not a far-reaching conjecture, after all.

He felt alright with Douglas while they were speaking. He felt, even, as if he was talking to another human. Now, as the silence continues to stretch on, he feels meaker, worried, and worst of all, fearful once again.

"I can hear your breathing getting heavier," Douglas says, voice slightly smug.

Martin closes his eyes for a brief period, working to calm himself down as best he can. There's no use in getting anxious at this point.

"Care to share your problem?"

Martin swallows and glances at Douglas. The vampire is walking backwards now yet still avoiding hitting anything in his path. He's watching Martin with a cocked eyebrow. Now that Martin can see his face and hear his smooth voice, he feels a little more reassured in regards to his original choice.

"I have a hard time trusting a vampire," Martin blurts out, completely unaware that that was what he was going to say. He nearly smacks himself; of course his mind thinks the best idea would be to alienate the man.

Douglas snickers and flips back around. "A healthy fear of us is good, I suppose. You weren't very scared of me before, though."

"Well you'd just saved my life," Martin says. "And you were a lot less...crazy than the last vampire I met so it threw me off."

"Ah," Douglas responds. "So you've met vampires before."

"Well..." Martin trails off, thinking back to the horrifying day early on in his new life. "I, um. I don't think met is the best word for it." Martin coughs, watching his feet as he walks and leaning against his makeshift cane.

"He was starving, apparently. He swooped in just as fast as you did earlier, killing my dad and at least ten others before he was contained. It was very early in our travels - just after we left England. Needless to say the addition of your kind after everything that had started to happen around us was a little terrifying."

Douglas looks at him and nods. "With so many humans before, we were able to hide. My personal coven never killed any humans for food, but others weren't so kind. Nonetheless, it was how we were able to stay hidden. When so many humans started dying or changing at once and we figured out that we can't feed on those creatures, some of us went a bit berserk."

They keep walking in silence.

"I'm sorry, though," Douglas says, surprising Martin with his tone.

Martin's brows furrow in confusion. "What for?"

"For your father," he explains, not looking at Martin. "I know what it's like to lose someone precious to you."

Martin nods but doesn't respond; it was a long time ago, comparatively. If he stopped to mourn every death around him, he'd be dead as well. There simply wasn't the time for such things anymore. Instead, he chooses to think over that statement as he limps on behind Douglas.

He'd never thought about vampire hierarchy before, never thought of their familial structure and what not. In fact, he hadn't had a single chance to contemplate vampires as he moved from town to town, hoping to reach safe woodland area to settle in with the rest of the people he was with.

A branch cracks under his foot unexpectedly and he trips, landing hard on his knee. He yelps as the action twists his already precarious ankle.

"Shit," he curses, holding his ankle in a loose hold and rocking slightly while he waits for the pain to recede.

Douglas is there in an instant, gently prying Martin's fingers away.

"It's fine. We can keep going. Really."

Douglas glances at him, then directs his attention back to the injured ankle. "It's not fine. Why do you insist we keep moving if you're so injured? This is a nasty sprain, not to mention the fact that one of those zombies grabbed you hard enough to bruise," he indicated the hand-shaped black mark at the base of his leg.

Martin purses his lips and looks away, cursing again.

Douglas stops his inspection and searches Martin's face. "You think I'm going to leave you," he breathes, cocking his head to the side.

"Well of course. Like this I'm a deadweight. Walking to Marcinkonys will take up to ten days and you said it yourself: there are other humans that you can go out and pick up." Martin closes his eyes to halt the threatening tears. It was too much to hope that he'd finally be safe.

He hears Douglas sigh as his hands leave his body. Martin nods, still with his eyes closed as he hears the distinct rustling indicating Douglas standing.

He's surprised, then, when Douglas's hands reappear at his ankle.

"What're you doing?" he gasps.

"It's your ankle that's hurt, not your eyes. What does it look like?"

Martin watches the scene in shock. "You're wrapping my ankle, obviously. But. Jesus is that real medical bandage?"

Douglas chuckles at the tangent and meets his eyes before going back to work. "The town of ours is well-stocked. Enough so that we don't have to conform to the recent human practice of killing off or leaving behind the weakest link. And even if we did, you're most certainly not one."

Martin draws in a breath, but has nothing to say in response. He just watches Douglas work. "I-. You're very good at that."

Douglas continues professionally wrapping his ankle. "I studied to be a doctor once. Went to medical school and everything before I was changed."

"When did that-"

Douglas cuts him off before he can finish his question. "All set," he says. "Although..."

"What," Martin asks dubiously.

"My professional opinion is that you stay off of it, at least for a little while."

Martin blanches. "How?"

"Well I'd carry you, of course."

Martin laughs. "No. No no, it's fine. I'm fine. I don't need...no. Thank you but I'll be fine, at least for a little while."

Douglas shrugs. "Your call. You know, not every vampire offers a free piggyback ride to a human they just met."

Martin quickly looks down as he feels his face color bright red. He shakes his head and stands, wobbling as he tries to calculate how much pressure he can place on his left leg without collapsing. He looks around, grabbing a sturdy stick as a makeshift cane.

"Let's go," he says, pushing forward and leaving Douglas to watch him limp away with a smirk still pasted on his face.

"Why is that," Martin asks, some four hours later when the silence is once again encroaching on his confidence.

"Why is what?"

"Why are you so...you?" Martin lifts a hand, indicating Douglas's entire being. "With me?" he continues, pointing now at himself.

Douglas glances at him as they continue walking. Martin determines that he may be hiding a smile, but it's impossible to tell from this angle.

"Are you wondering why I'm treating you so well or why I'm still carrying on with you?"

"Er...both."

Douglas sighs and looks up, watching the night sky as he walks. "Because of how you fought - your bravery, I suppose."

"Bravery?" Martin squeaks. "Oh God...I'm not...I'm not brave."

"Hm but you are. But you're also a bit broken," Douglas responds, watching him from the corner of his eye. Seeing that Martin is still unconvinced, he continues.

"I heard a commotion in the city nearby - the city you ran out of actually. No screams, no gunfire, just the usual sound of a zombie horde on the prowl. When I reached you, you were just passing into the treeline. You were frightened, yes, but you were determined. You knew what to do and how to do it."

"Then," he says. "Then you hit that zombie (it left a nice bruise across your nose, by the way) but when you hit the ground, you didn't cower in fear. You didn't back up or try to crawl away; you fought. You've obviously never been trained in combat, but you've picked up certain skills that kept you alive.

"You were doing so well, even when a fourth zombie (unusual for a forest group, that) stopped your path. Then, after all that fighting, when you thought all was lost, you didn't cry and you didn't scream. Something about that made me want to protect you more than any other human I've met. You have a fighting spirit - you know what needs to be done to keep yourself alive yet you don't cry for your own life.

"Isn't that a bit sad," he asks, finally looking Martin in the eye. "My village actively seeks fighters, it needs people willing to protect themselves. I was going to save you no matter what but the one attribute that made me want to keep you with me was the fact that somewhere in the back of your mind, you've lost hope; though your conscious mind hasn't yet processed that."

"I," Martin starts, but is cut off by Douglas's raised hand.

"I've watched humans for over one hundred years now and one single thing that always sticks out to me is their hope. Being a vampire for so long, you forget what it's like to feel that spirit. When you know that things will almost always be perfect for you, you don't need to bother wondering and fighting. Yet humans - when faced with a mortal adversary they still fight tooth and nail.

"You, Martin, are a complete antithesis. You want to live when a fight is to be had, yet when you're about to die, you accept it without fail. You've faced so much tragedy...I suppose I even see a bit of myself in you. I've always admired the human spirit, and I want you to get it back. Perhaps because I can't, perhaps because I'm tired of meeting those other desolate humans out in this world, perhaps, finally, because I like you, though I can't exactly say why."

Douglas stops, turning to face Martin who's halted a few yards back. The man's eyes are moving back and forth, as if there's something extremely interesting on the ground, and his eyebrows are continually furrowing and relaxing.

The vampire moves forward and places his hand on Martin's shoulder. "I'm sure you're hungry."

Martin starts and holds a hand to his stomach. "I left all of my food in my last camp. I wasn't expecting those zombies to show up so quickly," he explains.

"It's fine," Douglas replies. He reaches into one of the pockets of his trenchcoat, pulling out a breakfast bar and a bottled water.

Martin gasps and whips them out of his hand. "No way. I haven't had un-canned food in months." He tears the bar open, smelling it before nibbling at it - trying to savour it as much as he can.

"It's not much, but there's not a town nearby that I can run in to."

"It's fine," Martin says, still chewing. "I've learned how to ration through this past year."

Douglas nods and watches him eat. "Might as well camp here, then. I assume you haven't had a good night's sleep in quite awhile."

Martin blinks and looks at Douglas. "Um...no. Even when I was in a group I usually couldn't sleep that well."

"Well try to now; you'll want all your energy for tomorrow's journey."

"Oh ok. Um. So are we going to switch watches or something?"

Douglas chuckles. "No. I'm a vampire, I don't need to sleep unless I've been injured."

Martin's eyes widen and he nods. "Right right. You know, I keep forgetting that."

"That I'm a vampire?"

"Mhm," Martin hums.

"Well you can rest easy with me here. I'll wake you if there's too much trouble."

Martin nods again, still obviously uncomfortable.

Douglas rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "I won't try to feed on you - scout's honor."

Martin tenses at having been found out, but slowly he relaxes and looks around. "Thanks," he says while scouting out a good place to sleep for the night. He settles on a patch of leaves, laying his head against a nearby log.

Douglas sighs and pulls off his jacket. "You really left everything when you ran, didn't you," he asks, rolling up the great trenchcoat and offering it to Martin.

Jumping when he turns to find the jacket in front of his face, Martin grabs it gratefully. "Thanks...again. This isn't necessary but...thanks. Um. Yeah, I did. I thought I might try to go back and get it later but I saw too many as I was running and knew I probably couldn't."

He yawns and lies down. "You're going to be alright?" he asks quietly.

"I believe you saw how I fought earlier - I'll be perfectly fine."

Martin lazily waves his hand. "Yes I know that. I mean...aren't vampires like...allergic to light or something? Aren't you supposed to stay in a coffin while it's light out?"

Douglas laughs. "God, no. I'm perfectly capable of walking around in light. We wouldn't be very good protectors if we weren't."

"Ah, that's good," he says, yawning again. He's silent after that, continuously shifting to try to find a comfortable spot until he's finally asleep. Douglas watches him the entire night while keeping an ear attuned to the world around them.

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**As always, reviews are appreciated :). School starts up here for me in about a week so if I get rather lax with updating, feel free to poke me either here or on my tumblr. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Before I get too much further, I just want to inform you that later in this story, there will be non-con. I'm sorry if that's a deal breaker for you but that's the way the story took me haha. **

**If you're still here...please enjoy this chapter - I hope I've written the action as well as I think I have :D. Feel free to leave a review one way or the other; I do love those ;D**

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The first night is tough for Martin; he doesn't sleep well and wakes still tired. It's nothing he isn't used to, it's only extremely annoying. Yet, as the days pass and Martin gets more comfortable with the vampire, he starts sleeping better. By the fourth day, even, the dark splotches that had taken up residence under his eyes since before he can remember start to disappear.

He wakes on the sixth day of their travels feeling more rested than he has in months. He turns over to find Douglas looking far across the fields they've found themselves in. The vampire turns back to him with a small smile. "Awake, are we?"

Martin smiles in return and sits up, stretching.

"I'd say that's the best you've slept in quite awhile," Douglas says. "Hard to believe, considering how uncomfortable this ground is."

Martin wipes the jacket off and hands it back to Douglas. "It's not so bad," he says. "Compared to my old mattress, this grass is like a dream." He looks in the direction Douglas was earlier. "What were you looking at?"

Douglas stands and puts his jacket back on. "There's a town a little ways from here. It's a bit larger than I'm comfortable going to but we're closer to it than any others. We can get some supplies and follow the highway for awhile until we see trouble. For now, I don't see anything that will be a problem."

Martin stands with him and squints into the distance. "You can see a town? How far?"

"About forty kilometers. It should go without saying that I have better eyesight than you do."

Martin blanches. "Well alright. You think we'll be safe on the highway? I mean, we've passed quite a few and they've seemed fine but walking on it..."

"Safe? No. But I don't think there are many of those creatures in this area...We're getting pretty close to the village: about two to three days more at our same pace. We're actually making excellent time, especially considering your ankle. I'm impressed."

Martin tries to hide his blush, choosing to ignore the compliment in favor of asking a question. "Your friends patrol out this far?"

Douglas purses his lips. "Some do, yeah. We can't expect zombies to randomly wander into our area, so we search for them. Some of the members of my coven like the thrill that comes with killing them."

"You don't?"

Douglas shrugs and moves forward. "I don't mind it but I don't actively seek it. Violence is violence and, if I'm forced to go out on patrol, I'd much rather go out looking for humans."

"Have you done that a lot? Gone out to find humans?"

"No," Douglas responds. "I'm a bit lazy, to be honest. I haven't left the camp since we founded it for quite awhile. You're actually the first human I'm bringing back."

"So what...do you just drop me off and go back out?"

Again, Douglas shakes his head. "I'm lazy because I can be - technically in the hierarchy of my little coven, I'm near the top. I'm only out here because there was complaining by two particularly annoying vampires - one of which is my equal, more or less - that I haven't done my part. Now that I have, I shouldn't have to leave for quite some time. Besides," he continues, "I much prefer to stay and protect than to actively search."

Martin chews his lip. "And bringing back a half-crippled human like me is going to show that you've done your part?"

Douglas stops and turns. "You're really worried about that aren't you?"

Still chewing his lip, Martin looks away and nods.

"Hm. Well. Here's a story for you," he says as he continues to walk backwards towards their destination. "Six months ago (two months after the start of our little town) a vampire brought in a woman and her husband. The man himself was more or less alright. His wife, however, was half dead, bloodied from head to toe, and screaming. She wouldn't calm down no matter what we said to her. Her husband called it trauma. She was left to recover for as long as she needed in the hospital (as everyone is) without complaint."

"Turns out," he continues, "as I later found out from Eliza - the one that brought her in - the woman's husband had used their son as a shield for himself to get away and she was left to fight the zombies off of him. Despite her efforts, he was turned, and she had to be pried from his infected body after she'd miraculously fought the rest off. Two weeks later, she'd recovered enough to call a town meeting at which she had her husband - now ex - exiled."

He stops and watches Martin's reaction. The boy doesn't seem too reassured so he continues.

"She's now the leader of the human sect. Her name is Carolyn, just so you know."

Martin stops and looks at him. "The leader?"

Douglas nods and turns to keep walking. "The humans decided they needed one and came together to vote her in. That was only a week after her husband was voted out and three after she'd been brought in near the brink of death."

"Wow," Martin breathes. "She sounds scary."

Douglas laughs. "Oh she is, but underneath it all she's got a maternal instinct larger than anyone I've ever seen. You'll be fine, I'm sure. What I'm trying to say, Martin, is that what I said before still stands. My village needs fighters; people with a solid belief in persistence. We couldn't care less what you look like, how injured you are, or what you were like before this all started. If your drive is strong and you're willing to push through whatever is thrown at you, then you're accepted."

Martin nods slowly. He looks down at his ankle.

"It still hurts, doesn't it?"

Martin looks up again, meeting Douglas's sideways glance. "Er. Um. Yeah. It does."

Douglas smiles. "See? You'll be fine in my town. You're persevering...that's all we ask."

Martin smiles, relieved.

"Though that's not to say my offer has been revoked. I'll still help you if it's too much. I'd much rather be carrying you right now, truthfully."

"It's fine, really. I don't want to be burden."

"It's not a burden, Martin, really."

"No, no. Really, it's fine. I'll be fine. I'll let you carry me when I'm physically incapable of moving myself, how does that sound?"

Douglas shakes his head. "I said people who persevere, not people who are purely stubborn," he jokes. "Fine. Though we'll hope that doesn't happen."

Martin shoves into Douglas. "With a strong vampire like you by my side? I'm sure I'll be fine."

Douglas laughs. "Oh I see how it is, make me do all the work."

Martin chuckles. "You said it yourself: I've obviously never been trained to fight. That's your department," he says with a wink. His ridiculous gestures incite a laugh from Douglas as well and before long, they're both left helplessly giggling as they walk.

When they finally do quiet down, Douglas grabs Martin's shoulders, halting him. He leans down and points through the treeline they've arrived at. "There's the town. It's called Grajewo."

Martin smiles sadly and nods when he sees it. "You know, my mum always wanted to visit Poland. I told myself I'd save up enough money to take her out here at some point."

Douglas doesn't comment, merely leading the way down the hill that will take them to the town.

* * *

"It's creepy how quiet it is here," Martin says, looking all around him.

"It's not quiet to me; though my hearing is much better than yours."

Martin punches Douglas's shoulder. "Always the better with you."

Douglas smiles down at him. His eyes widen, suddenly, and his head whips back up to look deeper in the town. Martin watches him. "What do you hear?"

Douglas sniffs and blinks. "I thought I heard another human," he says slowly.

Martin nudges him. "Go get them, then. Use your 'better' speed or whatever it is you vampires do to grab them. Are they in danger?"

"It sounds like she's running," Douglas says, eyes squinting. "She's injured. I can get to her but I'd have to leave you."

"Douglas, it's fine. Go."

Douglas looks back at him and nods once before he disappears entirely.

"Bloody vampires and their superhuman..._everything_." Martin shakes his head and looks around. "Well, might as well start on that stocking up bit," he says, turning to walk to a nearby store.

* * *

Douglas sprints to the woman that he heard. Like Martin a few days ago, she's not screaming in terror, but he can hear her panting as she runs. She's on the complete other end of where they are - likely near the small lake just outside of town. He hooks left and right, avoiding every building and tree as they pass by in a blur.

He jumps from the line of the buildings into the fields nearby just in time to see her tackled to the ground. He curses when he gets a good look at the zombie and realizes with an uneasy feeling that it's a Reaper. There's no way for him to help her now, especially not while he has Martin with him.

The Reaper roars as it descends. He looks away from the thing sinking its teeth viciously into the woman's throat. He blocks out the sound of her screams turning to heaving gargles. He backs up as quietly as he can towards the line of buildings. He has to get to Martin; Reapers travel in packs and he hasn't seen nor has he heard the others - they have to get out of here before they're discovered.

Once he reaches the safety of the concealing buildings, he turns and runs as fast as he can.

Martin picks up his newly-acquired backpack and moves on to the third tiny store.

"Cute little grocery store," he muses as he steps in through the vacant hole that used to be a door. "Hardly even touched."

He walks in, going through the aisles, running his hands over the barren shelves of the canned-food section.

He gasps. "No way."

Martin rushes forward, grabbing the package and turning it over in his hands. "Snickers," he breathes. "God I haven't had chocolate in...forever."

He grins and opens the package of the mini candy bars. He pops one out, placing the rest in his pack for later.

"Wonder if Douglas likes chocolate," he says while he chews. Stopping in the middle of the aisle to look at some possibly spoiled breakfast bars, he puts a finger to his chin. "Can vampires even eat anything besides blood?" He shrugs and moves on, making a note to ask Douglas later.

A dull roar from outside grabs his attention, and Martin moves to the doorway. He peeks out. "I hope Douglas and that woman are alright," he murmurs.

There's a crash from behind him and Martin jumps, spinning around.

"Hello," he calls, scanning the room for anything to use as a weapon - the last thing he wants to do is use his makeshift cane, but it's looking like a strong possibility at this point. Stepping forward, Martin listens for more movement. From the corner of his eye, he sees something and turns just in time to meet a clawed hand hitting him in the side of the face.

"Gah!" he shouts, staggering back and holding the shallow cuts on his cheek. Martin backs towards the door, watching the creature in front of him. It's like nothing he's ever seen. Its skin has a sickly purple tinge, with hands that curve into vicious claws. The rest of its body is covered in entirely in prominent muscle. Worst of all is the face: its eyes are a completely blank white color - tinged red - and its teeth are all pointed, the canines protruding slightly from the rest.

"What in the hell..."

The thing pounces, knocking Martin back and out of the door. He rolls with it, managing to kick it up and backwards as they somersault. Martin stands, grabbing his dropped cane and turns back to face the creature.

Another growl alerts him to a second one and he spins around. Too late. The air is knocked out of him as he's slammed back, hitting a nearby wall - his head and back cracking painfully against it. Dazed, Martin slides down, taking far too long to stand while still gripping his stick.

The first one charges at him, and Martin swings hard. The stick hits the thing directly at the temple and it screeches as it flies sideways. Before it's even hit the ground, the second one pounces, it's hand outstretched.

Its claws scratch up across Martin's torso, going far deeper than he's comfortable with. The pain is drowned out by the adrenaline, however, and he backs up, once again hitting the wall. The thing springs forward and Martin falls to the left, letting his ankle collapse out from under him.

The landing hurts but the thing is confused and Martin uses the chance to roll over and stand. As he does, though, the first one lands on top of him. He barely has enough time to grip the mutilated cane in both hands and shove it in the thing's mouth as it pitches forward.

Keeping the its head from reaching him takes all his strength and he's left rolling from left to right as the creature tries to get purchase. He ignores its hands holding his, claws digging into the backs as he fights it. He kicks his feet, hoping to both dislodge this one and deter the other for a bit.

A cracking sound leaves Martin panicking and before he can blink, the thing forces it's way through the cane, it's teeth clicking as it bites just above his nose. He shouts, using his free hands to hit at its head. He winces as its body rubs against the deep gashes on his chest but he keeps rolling, hoping to knock the monster off.

He snaps his head to the side to avoid another bite, this time aimed at his jugular. Finally, he gets a foot underneath them both and kicks upward as much as he's able. It growls. Eventually Martin manages to roll and kick at the same time, sending the thing skidding to the right.

He stands and takes big gulping breaths, trying to push the pain of his wounds to the back of his mind. He steps on his bad ankle, shouting as he staggers once more. The two creatures are standing side by side where he landed against the wall originally.

"Pick on someone your own size," he wheezes. "This hardly seems fair."

The one on the right cocks its head and bares its teeth. The other straightens up and howls. He briefly closes his eyes, trying to regain some of his composure when suddenly, he's hit from the left side.

He shouts and moves to push away but stops when he sees that the thing that has him in its grip is none other than the one vampire he'd allow to keep him there. He lets out a stuttering breath of relief and leans his head against Douglas's shoulder as he's carried from the fight at high speed. Together, they head back into the treeline.

Once they reach the top of the hill and are safely hidden away, Douglas sets Martin down, placing his hands on his thighs and panting.

* * *

"I haven't run that fast in years," he says, voice stuttering as he gasps for air.

Martin lifts himself from the ground, shaking hands gripping a nearby tree as he pulls himself to a standing position.

"What the hell-" he starts before he's cut off by a short cry of pain. His left hand leaves the tree in favor of gripping his aching chest. "Shit," he curses, voice shaking.

Martin falls back to his knees and he struggles to breathe.

"Martin!" Douglas says, kneeling down beside him. "Let me see."

Breathing heavily, Martin removes his bloodied hand. "Worse," he starts, taking in another breath. "Worse than...I...thought. Oh god." He squeezes his eyes shut and replaces his hand. "Oh god."

Douglas quickly removes his jacket, folding it back into the usual makeshift pillow. "Lie down."

Martin leans back, breath still coming in short pants. He cringes as his bruised back and head hit the ground and pillow respectively.

"I'll have you tell me exactly where else you're hurt later," Douglas says, watching Martin's face as he settles back. "This is the priority for now. Is this the only major injury?"

Martin groans and tries to curl in on himself, quickly losing all rational thought to the all-consuming pain of his injuries.

"Martin," Douglas says, voice stern as he grips Martin's blood covered wrists and holds him in place. "I need to know: is this all that I need to worry about for right now?"

Martin nods.

"Martin. Keep your eyes open. Yes, like that. Just watch me." Douglas bends down and pulls Martin's tattered shirt back to reveal the four jagged marks from just above his belly button all the way up to just below his left shoulder. He curses. "These are deep."

"No. Shit," Martin pants, trying to smirk before another wave of pain hits.

Douglas searches in his pockets and then in the backpack that Martin has acquired for anything that might help with a wound this big but finds nothing. "Martin I have a way to help you but you have to completely understand. I don't think there's another option."

"Ok," he says, voice strained. "Tell me."

Douglas bites his lip but looks back at the deep wound, strengthening his resolve. "Some of those ridiculous human myths about vampires are true," Douglas explains in a rush. "One of them is the fact that we have healing saliva when we choose to invoke it. It's a bit of a necessity, really, considering how vigorous some of us can get while feeding. It doesn't usually leave a scar but with wounds these deep, markings will be left behind. That doesn't really matter in this case, I suppose..."

"Douglas," Martin wheezes.

"Right, right," Douglas says, unused to being so anxious before. "Oi, Martin, eyes open. There, come on. The serum could be painful or you might not feel anything, I can't be sure - it's different with everyone. Do you understand?"

Martin nods, slower this time. He's losing energy quick.

Without further preamble, Douglas leans down and licks a stripe up the leftmost cut. Both he and Martin gasp, though he suspects for completely different reasons.

"Alright?"

Martin nods and Douglas proceeds. Martin's blood tastes absolutely _divine_ and in any other situation, he'd relish the taste. Here and now, however, he's far too nervous - concerned, even - to do much else besides subconsciously appreciate it as he works to save Martin.

It's the work of only twenty five long seconds but finally, Martin's breathing is slowing from it's worryingly frantic pace. His eyes are half-lidded as he watches Douglas sit up and wipe his mouth. He's exhausted from the blood loss and the energy it took to keep himself awake for those few desperate minutes.

"I've lost count," he whispers.

"Hm?"

"Of how many times you've saved me."

"Considering you're about to arrive at a village in which I'll be protecting you on a daily basis, I suggest you stop trying to keep a tally in the first place."

"Ha ha," Martin says, eyes closing. "Thank you, though."

Douglas brushes some curls away from Martin's face. "You're welcome," he says. When Martin's breaths have finally evened out, Douglas rebuttons what's left of Martin's shirt, cleans some of the excess blood from his face, and picks him up.

"I'm counting this as 'physically incapable'," he murmurs. He slings the pack over his shoulder and grabs his coat as he starts to walk in the direction of his - and soon to be Martin's as well - home.


	4. Chapter 4

Martin opens his eyes nearly twenty six hours later, immediately making eye contact with Douglas. He's still severely exhausted, but he shakes it off. He looks around as Douglas slows to a stop, laying Martin on the ground to get his bearings.

"How long?"

"About a day," Douglas responds as he pulls a bottle of water from the backpack and hands it over. "Less than I expected, really. That kind of blood loss should leave you out for much longer."

Martin yawns as he peels his shirt back to look at the wound. The scars left from the quick healing are still colored a deep red, but they're completely closed up. He finishes his analysis and looks back at Douglas. "What were those things?"

"You've never seen them before?"

He shakes his head as he downs the water bottle.

Douglas sighs. "They're called Reapers and they're severely dangerous, as you've seen. Frankly, I'm impressed that you withstood as long as you did against them; I've seen vampires who can't last more than thirty seconds."

Martin chokes as he drinks. Wiping his mouth he says, "Vampires can't go up against those things?"

"Some can't," Douglas confirms.

"There are two ways a Reaper is made," he explains. "One is when a vampire tries to change an infected human, though only when the human has just recently been infected. No change occurs to fully-formed zombies. The second is when a vampire is infected by a zombie. That doesn't happen often; we can withstand many bites from them. It's hard to tell how many is too many, really."

"So they're not just zombies on steroids then. Right."

Douglas chuckles. "As you've seen they're huge and particularly dangerous. There's a good chance that being bit by one will change you into a Reaper as well; however, we've never gotten a chance to test that theory. They're usually more focused on the devouring bit. They travel in small packs of two to five generally and are extremely hard to take on. I myself, even, have a hard time fighting them."

"Well alright then," Martin says as he pulls a breakfast bar and a few pieces of chocolate from the pack. "Always good to know that there's something even more terrifying than the zombies themselves."

Douglas smirks and stands. "We're not too far now; perhaps another day of walking."

Martin nods and moves to stand as well. Shaking, he pulls himself up to his knees but gives up when he can't seem to lift himself any farther. "Ok," he says, breathing slightly heavier than before. "That's weird."

"It's the blood loss," Douglas says, packing everything away and slinging the bag over his shoulder. "Even after that much sleep you'll be left weak. If you don't mind..."

Martin rolls his eyes, looking very put-out. "Don't think I have much choice," he grumbles.

Douglas picks him up once more and situates him before reaching back for his coat.

"Does it have to be like this, though?" Martin says, voice coming dangerously close to a whine. He indicates the bridal-style hold Douglas has on him. "I think a simple 'piggyback ride' as you so nicely put it earlier would be just fine."

Still holding Martin with one arm, Douglas tosses the long coat over the human with the other. He situates them both and starts moving. "You've been shivering for the last half hour - that would be another symptom of the blood loss. It's much harder to keep a jacket on a sleeping human when they're on your back than it is when they're in your arms."

"Sleeping," Martin asks but even as the word is out of his mouth, a yawn threatens to overcome him. "Who said anything about sleeping?"

"I did. You're obviously still tired, you should get some rest. I'll wake you when we get close to the village."

Martin huffs but concedes when he realizes he's having a hard time keeping his eyes open anyway. He leans his head against Douglas's shoulder and falls asleep almost instantly.

* * *

Having to detour around Grajewo added a bit of time, but within only a few hours Douglas is able to see the village. They're still fairly far out, which is why he's surprised when he hears the distinct rustling sounds of two sprinting vampires coming his way. He halts, waiting for them to reach him.

Eliza lands in front of him, hopping down from the treetops while Isaac pushes his way through the bushes just to his right.

"Well well," Eliza says. "What a cute little human." She grins and gets in closer to see. "A ginger too! That's adorable. I love gingers."

Isaac snickers and steps up beside her. "This is unusual - you're usually so wary of interaction with them, I'm surprised you'd be willing to carry one all the way here."

Douglas rolls his eyes. "He's injured, obviously." Shifting Martin in his arms a bit, he cocks his head to the side. "I wasn't expecting a search party so soon. What are you doing all the way out here? Is something wrong?"

Eliza smiles at him and shakes her head. "Nothing big, no."

Douglas raises an eyebrow. "And that's supposed to reassure me."

Isaac shakes his head in exasperation and steps forward, pushing Eliza gently away from her inspection of the sleeping human. "We saw a group of Reapers pass by going West a few days ago."

"A group of three? We encountered them."

Eliza's eyes go wide. "Did you fight them all on your own?"

"Actually no," he responds. "Martin here fought two of them before I was able to reach him."

Eliza tries to get closer. "Brave and ginger. Perfect."

Isaac rolls his eyes good-naturedly at Douglas. "Sorry about that," he says. "We let them by as there are only seven of us here at the moment."

Douglas blanches. "There are eight out for patrol? Who's idea was that?"

"Who do you think? The same man who decided to send one of the top combat fighters out on a human scouting mission."

"Stefan," he growls. "What the hell does he think he's doing. The point of our vil-"

"Douglas?"

Douglas stops mid-rant and meets Martin's bleary eyes. Martin blinks and looks around. Upon seeing the other two vampires, he tries to scoot closer to Douglas's chest.

"Martin," Douglas says, voice softer than before. "These are my friends. Eliza and Isaac."

Martin nods and seems to relax. He's obviously wary of Eliza, especially, who, upon hearing his voice, cooed and crowded in even closer.

"Eliza good lord back up," Douglas says, his tone broaching no argument.

Looking properly cowed, Eliza takes a full step back. Douglas lowers Martin's legs, and helps him to stand. Martin wobbles and grips Douglas's arm tight but after a moment, he's able to stand with only slight help from Douglas.

"Um. Hello," he says awkwardly, putting up a hand in a half-wave. "I'm, er, Martin."

Eliza grins while Isaac smirks. "Good to meet you," Isaac says. He looks from Martin to Douglas. "We need to check you."

Douglas sighs. "Oh fine." He helps Martin over to a nearby tree that the man can latch on to before leaving him there. "They have to make sure we've not been infected, Martin," he explains when he starts to look a bit panicked. "They can't smell us properly if we're too close."

Martin swallows and nods.

Isaac approaches Douglas first, bending and straightening with every sniff. "Clean," he says after a moment. He nods to Eliza who does the same with Martin. She halts at his chest.

"Your scent is on him," Eliza exclaims, voice heavy with implication. "My, my."

Douglas holds his hand to the bridge of his nose as Isaac turns to him with a look of confusion tinted with faint amusement on his face. "Like I said," he explains, "Martin was in a fight with two of the Reapers. You don't think he'd come out unscathed do you? He would have died if left alone, so I healed him."

Isaac's eyebrows shoot up. "Full of surprises," he murmurs while Eliza giggles. She stops abruptly, shooting Martin a delighted yet apologetic look and goes back to checking him.

"All clean," she sings, backing up to let Douglas through.

"We're going to head back, then," Isaac says as Eliza jumps back up into the trees. "You all take your time - I'll alert Carolyn to the new arrival."

Once they're gone, Martin leans more heavily against Douglas. "Sorry," he says. "You'd think after so much sleep I wouldn't be so tired."

"Not to worry. Once we get there you'll have a nice meal and will be right as rain by tomorrow."

Martin smiles. "A meal. Wow."

Douglas shakes his head. "It doesn't take much to make you happy, does it?"

Martin hums and limps along next to Douglas as they walk. Just over an hour passes before Martin is able to see the village and when he does, he comes full stop.

"Oh my god," he says, voice quiet and somewhat reverent. "There's...there's a wall and...oh god." He puts a hand to his mouth.

Obviously he hadn't fully comprehended the size of the human population in this area. Douglas watches as he rubs at his eyes, embarrassed. He looks back to the town that Martin won't take his eyes from. For him, it's a familiar view and, as such, it doesn't hold as much wonder as he's sure it does for newcomers.

The town is surrounded by a hastily-crafted makeshift wall interrupted only by a gate just big enough for a few people to fit through at a time. Two vampires stand sentry and one nods at Douglas as he watches. Inside the wall is a small community. At it's center is a clear area where town meetings are held, surrounded by an area for a market, and, encircling all of that stand several makeshift houses. They're not exactly heavenly, but to anyone who's been sleeping in abandoned office buildings and the woods for the past year, they look amazing. Small fires are burning in between groups of shacks.

They nearly fill up the remaining area between the walls and the community center but for an area at the northernmost point in the town where a single large building sits. It looks to Martin like a miniature castle. The three spires on the front denote its gothic style architecture, and the only color on it besides the grey-black brick comes from the stained glass windows.

"Who's house is that?"

"That house was my covens before all this started. We built the city around it and now that's where we stay," he replies.

Martin nods and continues to take in the area. "Is there enough space for me? It already looks so packed."

Douglas smiles. "You'll be fine, trust me. Even if there weren't empty houses, a number of people would be glad to take you in. It's amazing, really. I would've expected people to become more selfish with all of this but instead, people - at least people here - are ridiculously gracious."

Martin grins up at him. "I don't know what to say."

"Well don't say anything. Let's just go meet your new neighbors."

Martin nods vigorously and pulls Douglas forward.

* * *

**Originally this chapter was around 6,000 words, so I've cut it down and made it into two parts. The next one will be up either tomorrow or Tuesday.**


	5. Chapter 5

"Clear," Lydia says, giving Douglas a cold look as she backs away. Tomas nods and moves on to Martin. "That was awfully quick. Fifteen days...a little convenient isn't it? Have you had one hiding away just for the occasion?"

"Clear," Tomas says, smiling brightly. "Welcome to the village, Martin. Afraid we don't have a name but it's home all the same. I'm sure Carolyn will be happy to see you."

Martin nods, still uncomfortable around other vampires. "T-thanks. Um. Thank you."

Douglas turns to Lydia as Martin stumbles over a conversation with Tomas. "It is most certainly convenient; finding such a fine human in a short time was a true stroke of luck for me."

She looks at him with a look of pure disdain. He glances at Martin once more before turning more fully towards her, getting in close. "If Stefan has a problem with it," he hisses, "then he can talk directly to me but for now, I think even he should be pleased with Martin here."

Tomas coughs into his hand and Douglas turns to see Martin staring at him with wide eyes. Douglas sticks out his arm for Martin to hold on to and they go inside, both of them completely ignoring Lydia's sneer.

"What was that?" Martin whispers once they've passed through the gates.

"Hm," Douglas responds, looking into the air. "You'll recall my telling you about a certain vampire who thought I wasn't doing my fair share. His name is Stefan and that was Lydia, one of his supporters."

"You guys are fighting?"

Douglas smiles reassuringly. "Oh there are always little fights to be had in a community of immortal beings; it's nothing you have to worry about. Now," he says, leading the way to the center of the town. "Carolyn has been alerted to your arrival and will be waiting for you in the community center. After the initial meeting you'll be led to the medical center to treat your wounds and then to your house where you can change."

"Change?"

Douglas smirks. "We can't allow you to be walking around in those tattered blood-soaked clothes can we? Each person is given four shirts, jeans as well as shorts, and one pair of pajamas."

Martin staggers as if he's been hit. "A change of clothes. And I thought the houses were the best part."

"You'll like this more," Douglas says. "There's a bathhouse in the marketplace and newcomers always get bumped up to first place on the schedule."

Martin guffaws and places his hand over his mouth again. "Stop it Douglas, you'll make me cry."

"That's not a hard thing to do," Douglas muses, chuckling when Martin pushes into him.

"Martin, is it?"

They stop as a stern voice reaches them from the front of the center square. Martin looks up and meets the eyes of a stern woman. Though she must be towards the end of middle age, her look of pure intensity is all business. He's immediately intimidated by her.

"Yes, er, yes ma'am."

Carolyn steps down from her perch on the small stage and walks through the various onlookers to address him. It's only then that Martin notices how many other people are in the town with him and he grins broadly despite the very scary woman walking towards him.

She stops mere centimeters in front of him. "My name's Carolyn. While I appreciate the ma'am it's hardly a necessity." She extends her hand, taking his in a firm handshake. "Now you, Martin, look like you've really been through it all."

Martin scratches his head and looks around. "Yeah. You could, um, you could say that."

Carolyn places her hand gently on his shoulder, her face softening. "Calm down; you're safe here. There's no need to be so nervous."

He smiles gratefully at her.

"Now," she says, completely serious once more. "You need a trip to the med bay; you're obviously hurt. We'll hope those wounds on your face aren't infected, though after this long I doubt it. Just so that you are aware, we also have a psychiatric ward. I suspect you'll need it after being forced to travel with Douglas here for such a long period of time."

"Hey now."

She smirks at Douglas before reaching out an arm and taking Martin's weight from him. "Douglas should go make his report to Durai. Shoo, vampire, off you go. Martin will be safe with me."

Douglas rolls his eyes and looks to Martin for confirmation before he walks off in the direction of the vampires' housing.

"Now then," Carolyn says, clapping her hands. "You know my name and you also likely know my position in this society. While I'm technically the leader, I don't do much besides pass on information from one group to another and keep things organized. Surprisingly, it's not as much work as you'd expect; people here are unprecedentedly competent."

She turns them to the left, leading them slowly to the large building with the extremely recognizable red cross on the front. "Your first day will likely be a whirlwind but, seeing as how we don't get a lot of newcomers, I'll have the time to stick with you through it all so you don't get lost."

Martin nods, obviously relieved though still tense as he limps along beside her.

"Now for some explanations. This is our makeshift hospital. Dr. Christine Breton is the only one with a legitimate medical degree, but she's taught the others what they need to know to keep it functional, you understand.

"Within there as well, we do actually have a psychologist on duty. Andrei, one of the vampires, went to school and got the degree and, as this community came together, taught other like-minded people the tricks of the trade. It's not the best but in this new world of ours, it's likely the top facility you'll find."

Surprised at the thoroughness of the small town, Martin inclines his head in acknowledgement.

"Luckily, there are no appointments so you can show up any time." She stops and looks him dead in the eye. "You're not required to go there but you should know that absolutely no one would judge you if you did. Considering how long you've been out there, it's absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. There's someone on duty twenty four seven."

Then, almost as an afterthought and in a poor attempt to hide her care: "The last thing we need around here is someone made useless because they feel too embarrassed to get help. Don't be that person."

Martin smothers a smirk and Carolyn huffs as they continue on.

"This town functions on a strange mix of a barter system and one of trust. Our only enemies are the zombies; we can't afford to be up against each other. I don't expect you to understand it right away but all you need to know is that you won't go hungry and we try to make you as comfortable as possible."

"You'll be able to choose your job tomorrow," she explains, pushing back the cloak on the doorway of the hospital. "You don't get paid considering everyone here has to work to keep us moving, though occasionally you'll be allowed to take useless items to trade later. That fact, however, doesn't mean you get to slack off. You'll make friends at your job and in this city if you're doing your part. People here are friendly enough, but as soon as you get on their bad side, you're done. We're not afraid to exile anyone." She looks him over and smiles a bit, though it's not in the least bit comforting. "I don't expect that to happen to you though. I can tell."

Before Martin can reply, they're interrupted by a nurse and taken to one of the beds.

"It's nice to meet you, Martin," the nurse says, smiling as he pulls the privacy curtain back. "I have your new clothes here. I'm sorry to say that your current clothes don't look as if they can be saved."

Martin nods, understanding but sad all the same. He looks down at the uniform shirt that had served him so well for the past few months and sighs. "Alright," he says, reaching to pull it off. The nurse helps him to undress while Carolyn pointedly looks the other way to give him some semblance of privacy.

The nurse inspects his wounds after handing him a blanket, muttering about stitches before excusing himself.

Carolyn spins around and inspects his old outfit. "You were a pilot," she says, running a hand over the tattered logo. "Air England. That's not a bad airline."

Martin smiles. "I was only a first officer but I still loved it - it was my one dream in life, really," he says. "I worked there for long enough that I was able to fly my family out of England quicker than others. I'm not going to lie, I miss it."

Carolyn nods in understanding. "My ex-husband and I owned an aeroplane. I thought it might be fun to own my own little charter airline but Gordon always refused." She steps back and looks at him. "So your family...did you separate from them after you landed?"

"No, actually." He swallows. "We stayed together for as long as we could - they all died though. The last person with me - my brother, Simon - died about five weeks before Douglas showed up.

"Oh. I'm sorry," Carolyn says, strangely quiet.

"It's fine," he says. "I like to think that at the very least they'd be happy that I've found this place."

She smiles. "That's a lovely way to think of it," she responds, just as the nurse walks back in with another person.

"Martin," he says, "this is Dr. Breton. She makes a point of meeting every newcomer. I'm going to leave you under her care while I go take a look at some other patients."

Martin watches as Carolyn and Breton say their hellos and she turns to him.

"Well, Martin," she says, her voice airy and extremely soothing, "you look like you've been through a bit of hell, my dear."

Martin snorts and Carolyn smirks. "Sorry," he says. "Yes. I suppose that's what it can be called."

Breton smiles and shakes her head. "It's fine. I understand it's a bit of an understatement. I haven't been past the walls in so long, sometimes I forget how brutal it can be. Now,"

She lifts a pad of notepaper and looks over what's written down.

"I'm going to read these off and you let me know if we're missing anything. There seems to be significant bruising on your left ankle, the same one you've sprained. There's recent scarring on your chest but I don't think we have to worry about those. You've got intense bruising on your back and scratches on your back left shoulder that need some stitches. I see some deep cuts on each of your hands and wrists that can't be stitched but do need to be watched over. Finally, there's the faded bruise across your nose and the two sets of claw marks on your face, one of which will also need stitching. Did I miss anything?"

"I hit my head when I hit my back. I don't think it's anything major but..."

Breton nods. "We'll want to check it over anyway. Luckily we have a specific type of thread that can withstand water so you'll be fine to wash up later. Since there's no one to stay with you, we'll send someone by your house tomorrow to check up on you, if that's alright."

Martin acknowledges her words, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the clear-cut manner of it all.

Stitching him up doesn't take long and as he leaves, he's given a cane and a "starter pack" as Carolyn dubs it, filled with clothes, various first aid and hygiene essentials, a personal mirror for shaving, and some food. From there, he is led to the bathhouse. He revels in the warm water provided for him (with a stern reminder that he's expected to get himself in the future). He revels even more in the provided soap and shampoo. When he walks out, the sun catches on his ridiculously long curls and he smiles, having forgotten exactly what color his hair is.

"The Doctor would be jealous of those ginger locks," Carolyn calls from where she's been waiting for him.

Martin grins. "You watched Doctor Who?"

She smirks. "My son loved the show and I must admit, the new ones weren't too bad."

They discuss the show some more as she leads him from the marketplace to the surrounding neighborhood. Martin likes Carolyn a lot. While she tries to act stern he has to agree that Douglas was right when he said she has a huge motherly instinct. That's not to say he's not afraid of getting on her bad side; he can tell she has the ability to be as harsh as possible when she wants to be.

She leads him to a small shack labelled 107.

"Welcome to your new household," she says, opening the door. "Again, it's not much. It hardly retains heat but you have blankets for that. If it gets too bad in the winter, you're welcome to sleep in the community center.

"There's a cot and a small kitchen. Most people don't use the kitchen much since meals are provided in the town center but if you want something more private, you shouldn't have a problem getting the necessary supplies for your own meal. These units don't have bathrooms but you've probably seen the various outhouses on the way here. There are ten in the town center and several others in the neighborhoods surrounding."

She stays outside as he passes through the threshold, amazed at having his own place after so long.

"That should be it," she says, smiling at him once more. "There aren't locks on these places but if you have a problem here or see anything suspicious, let me know and I'll talk to the vampires."

"Okay."

"It's good to have you here, Martin. I hope you enjoy your stay and learn to think of this place as home as we all have."

"Thank you," he says, closing the door behind her.

He turns and nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees Douglas sitting nonchalantly on his cot.

"God! Douglas you scared me."

Douglas smirks. "Apologies," he says, leaning against the wall. "You look much better all washed up."

Martin rolls his eyes. "And I thought the thick layers of dirt and grime really gave me a more more rugged look," he quips.

Douglas laughs. "It at least saved my eyes. Your natural ginger hair is so bright it nearly blinded me when I saw it," he jokes, dodging the shirt hurled at him. He sobers up and watches as Martin explores his small house. "How are you liking our little village?"

Martin pauses in his close examination of a spatula to look back at him. "I'm not sure. Ask me in a few days after I've gotten over the shock."

"It is a lot to take in, I'll give you that."

Martin hums and places the utensil back on its hook. "You um...You shouldn't feel obligated or anything to check up on me or something."

Douglas tilts his head. "Is that a kindly-veiled 'piss off'?"

Martin whips around to look at him. "No! I mean. I just thought. You said..."

"I told you days ago that I was near the top of my coven but I'm by no means the leader - I gratefully give up any and all responsibility to Durai and Giselle. As long as I'm working my shifts on lookout I can do whatever I want on my down time. Coincidentally, what I wanted to do was come by and see how you were doing."

"Oh," he replies dumbly. "That's good, erm, nice. Thank you."

Douglas chuckles and lifts himself from the cot. "You, on the other hand, shouldn't 'feel obligated' to keep thanking me."

Martin nods and keeps his mouth shut, watching as Douglas moves closer. He sniffs the air around him before backing up and inspecting Martin's stitches.

"You still smell a bit like me," he says, tilting Martin's head from left to right. "I didn't expect that."

"It's fine."

Douglas doesn't respond as he continues to look at the stitches. "Did they give you pain medication for these?"

"No," he answers. "They don't hurt so I told them to save it."

Douglas rolls his eyes and steps back. "Really, Martin, our scouters are able to pick up medications; you'd be surprised at how much they find on each trip."

Martin shrugs. "It's ok, really. I've had to go without before on worse injuries."

"The one I healed doesn't count," Douglas sighs, exasperated.

"I'm not talking about that," Martin says while simultaneously smirking at knowing something Douglas doesn't and grimacing at the memory. It leaves a strange expression on his face that makes Douglas unsure about whether he should pursue the subject further or not.

Martin rolls his eyes and lifts his shirt. "It's fine, Douglas, it happened a long time ago." He points to four scars on his right side and moves his arm to show another set of four - longer this time - on his arm, stretching from the elbow to the wrist.

Douglas leans in close, gripping the arm and bringing it to his face to look closer. "These aren't from a zombie," he says. "They're too clean."

Martin affirms his suspicions with an inclination of his head. "I got these from the vampire that attacked my dad. He had me first; it grabbed me at the elbow," he indicates the top of the scar, "but dad pulled me back. The thing jumped on him and I tried to fight it off and got the ones on my side for the trouble. After I was knocked back my sister grabbed me and told me to run."

Without thinking, Douglas takes a step back. Martin grabs his wrist and holds him in place.

"You remember as we were travelling, I said I was a bit wary of you," Martin says, still not releasing him. "But you helped me. You saved me and you genuinely seem to care about me and you know what? Now I trust you implicitly even though I've only known you for such a short time." Martin lets go of his wrist and steps back. "Around you, I'm completely comfortable. It's other vampires that I need more time with."

"I didn't know," Douglas says, trying to think back to their meeting with Eliza and remember whether he saw fear in Martin's face when he'd assumed it was simple apprehension at meeting someone new.

"Of course you didn't," Martin murmurs, bending to meet Douglas's downcast eyes. "I didn't tell you. Outside, there's no time for complaining or reconsideration. When you asked me if I wanted to come with you, I thought about it and I picked the lesser of two evils. I know now that I definitely made the right choice. I'll be fine so stop looking so guilty - it doesn't suit you."

Douglas blinks at him and smirks slowly. "I'll have you know I've never felt guilty a day in my life."

"Liar," Martin says as he walks back to unpack his things. "Now. Carolyn said something about communal dinners or whatever."

Douglas hums and moves to pick up a satchel that he'd left by Martin's bed. "On your first day here, you're not expected to leave your house, really. I'm sure Carolyn plans to send someone with food for you later so that you can rest but I just so happen to have some here."

Removing his new shoes, Martin lays back on his cot, testing the comfort. He watches Douglas take items from the satchel. "You brought me food?"

"But of course, seeing as you don't have any. I'll have you know that I am an excellent cook, though I don't have much reason to put my skills to use anymore."

"Oh, well, thank- I mean. What are we having?"

He grins back at Martin before rustling around in his bag for a set of matches. "Chicken with sauteed vegetables. You're not allergic to anything are you?" Douglas waits for Martin's negative response before he starts pulling out various spices and vegetables. "Just the chicken and veggies, I'm afraid; there's not room for much else in here, though I doubt you'll be able to eat much as it is after getting used to a breakfast bar or two a day."

When Martin doesn't respond, Douglas turns only to find that he's staring longingly at the chicken that he's placed on the poor excuse for a counter. He laughs and goes back to setting everything up.

The house is silent save for the occasional popping noise of the pans as Douglas works. When he's finished, he places the items artistically on one of the two plates that the house comes with and reveals it to Martin who looks about four seconds away from full-on drooling. "Eat up," he says, handing Martin the necessary utensils. "Careful not to overdo it, though. Don't feel as if you have to eat it all."

Martin waves his hand absently as he digs in. He's awkward, at first, with the utensils, having not had a need for them in a year. After a few bites, though, his muscle memory takes over and he becomes slightly less barbaric. Douglas observes from the single seat in the two-room house, laughing at Martin's sounds of pure pleasure that he makes after every bite.

Martin manages to make his way through a good half of the chicken before he looks meekly at Douglas and says, "I don't think I can eat anymore."

"It's fine," he replies. "There's no electricity in the housing district for refrigerators so we can't save it. I'll go out and give some to the children across town - I'm sure they'll appreciate it."

Martin nods and rummages in his pack of clothes for his pajamas. "The sun hasn't even fully set yet but I'm dead tired," he says, yawning as he pulls off his shirt.

Standing, Douglas takes the pan and the plate over to the kitchenette. "I expect you would be. Now; you'll have to take these down to the market tomorrow. There's a little stand there where you exchange your plates for clean ones and they take them out just beyond the walls to clean them." He turns back as Martin finishes getting changed. The clothes are large on his skinny frame, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"If I were you," Douglas says, "I wouldn't take that job. Washing peoples' plates is bad enough but leaving the walls to do it is even worse."

Martin leans back and gets comfortable on his bed, sighing and closing his eyes. "They go on their own?" he asks sleepily.

"No. A vampire is assigned to each group that leaves - only two may leave at a time. There are four groups that go beyond the walls to complete their tasks daily."

Martin watches Douglas take a seat in his chair through increasingly-bleary eyes. "You guys have really got your stuff figured out."

Douglas shrugs one shoulder, conceding the point. "I suppose we have Carolyn, Durai, and Giselle to thank for that. They work so well together, it's almost as if they expected the apocalypse to happen and planned accordingly."

Martin giggles but is stopped mid-way through by another yawn. "When do I need to be up?"

"Don't worry about that, someone will come by to get you. Wake up call is another job you can take, though that one sounds almost worse than the plate washing."

Martin nods slowly, his smile falling slack on his face as he loses himself to sleep. Douglas waits for a moment, watching the slow rise and fall of the man's chest before he stands. He grabs the chicken and opens the squeaky door as quietly as he can, leaving Martin to get as much rest as possible before his next day in his new life.

* * *

**As you've noticed, there are going to be plenty of OC's in here. I know sometimes people hate that, but don't worry! I'm going to try to keep the main ones down to a minimum. **


End file.
